Crimson Bullets
by Rynn Abhorsen
Summary: They couldn't cope when she died for them and the knowledge of her sacrifice nearly destroyed the team. But now that they know she is alive, their destruction is approaching far faster than they realize.
1. Kitty

It was intended to be simple, 

But things never are, I suppose. 

We were going to go into a warehouse, 

There had been rumors of Trask's agents meeting there. 

The rumors were right. 

All of us went, even the Professor and Logan. I wasn't afraid, we are a team, we trust each other. We are one unit, so if one falls, all fall. But you know, it's not true. I'm still here, but she isn't. Now I'm getting ahead of myself, let me back up. 

The warehouse was near the pier; we all got into the plane at ten o'clock this night. Everyone was relatively silent, but it's normal. Scattered conversations flared, but died off quickly. I was sitting in the back, next to Kurt. The clouds were dark, even Storm couldn't disperse them. You know, I didn't notice it then, but it was so strange, Storm's a weather-witch, and yet these clouds defied her. They were warning us, I know it now. Pay attention to warnings, it will save your life. 

The warehouse was dark steel, black as the night with the oppressive clouds propped above. The plane sank onto the roof, quite and stealthy as a cat. There was no sound at all, but the beating of my heart, pounding like a drum in my ears. The ramp sank down; we trooped out resolutely into the warm night. I remember it as if it was happening now; we walked as if the air was congealed, warm and wet, prickling on our skin, dulling our senses. If it had been cooler, could I have saved her? 

The door to the warehouse opened with a screech, yet another unheeded warning. It was dark, still and silent, except for the water dripping onto the concrete floor. The floor was hard, the walls were steel, it was a box, a metal crate, and it became her coffin. 

Jean stepped in front, and put up a shield, just in case, Scott put a hand to his visor, cautious as always. The professor and Storm radioed, they were stationed in a vantage point on the roof. Logan growled low in his throat. His voice rumbled as he said, "there are agent's here." 

Kurt walked slowly towards the light, 

One fuzzy blue finger reached up,

A click,

The bare bulb hanging from the ceiling cast a weak glow,

And hell broke loose.

Agents flooded from the shadows, weapons pulled. How many were there? I can't recall now. Logan's claws unsheathed, one of the noises I recognized. Jean thrust out a hand, while still trying to hold the shield. Three of the agents were slammed into a wall; their heads drooped to their chests. Kurt ported a group of four into the air, dropping them to the concrete floor. Scott's lasers threw seven onto the ceiling, and then they plummeted earthward. Logan threw off countless agents, their muffled cries lost in the tumult of fighting. I phased through one, another slammed into him. 

Jean's shield wouldn't hold much longer, that much I knew. The last of the agents fell, we relaxed. No one was seriously injured, and we had confirmed our suspicions. Jean breathed a sigh of relief, and let down the shield. I heard a scream, "No!" 

It happened in slow motion, one last agent emerged from behind a crate, a single rifle pointed at Jean. 

She tried to bring back the shield, 

The rifle cracked like a whip, 

Holy lightning flashed as the bullet fired,

It spiraled straight, 

Jean watched it frozen, 

Somehow, in those few seconds, I saw everyone's faces. 

Scott was turning, just now seeing the bullet, 

Logan's face contorted, snarling, 

Kurt was watching, fascinated by the bullet's path.

And I? I couldn't do a thing, 

But she could. 

It happened so fast, I missed the motion. One second Jean was watching the bullet like a frightened rabbit; next, a figure hurled itself in front. There was a wet squelching noise, a spray of red. There was blood on Jean's face, her smooth complexion marred by crimson stains. The figure let out a breath, and everyone stopped moving. My eyes were riveted to the spot where she fell…

Rogue. She took the bullet, and hit the floor. Her body met it with a sickening crack; I think some of the cement shattered. Logan moved first, lunging forward in the throes of rage. And for the second time in three seconds, I saw someone die…

The agent was decapitated, his head dropped to the floor, in time with the body. You know, I didn't care. Rogue was still on the floor, her eyes pulled wide. Crimson was flooding the floor beneath her; the savage wound letting loose torrents. Rogue's lips kept moving, but no sound came, her eyes became dull, and she relaxed. Jean stayed frozen, one hand propping her body. A trembling hand tried to wipe the blood off, but only succeeded in smearing it. 

The professor radioed again, buzzing in my ear. "Everyone fall back, more agents are coming." 

Logan was on his knees beside Rogue, holding her gently; I dropped to the floor with a thud. Logan's voice was tight, tears I never knew he could cry falling in gentle tracks down his unshaven cheeks. Logan let Rogue descend to the floor, wiping his tears away he said, "Chuck, no way in hell I'm leaving Stripes here, maybe we can still save her…" 

The door burst open, agents, maybe a hundred, rushing towards us like a wave. Jean broke from her paralysis; she enclosed Scott and herself in a bubble, using telekinesis to escape. Logan picked up Rogue again, careful to avoid the exposed skin on her. Kurt pulled at Logan, "We have to go!" 

I phased through the agents, moving steadily towards the door. He smell of sulfur reached my nose, and suddenly I was back at the jet. We had to leave her body behind, lying on the floor as agents poured in. The clouds burst then, the rain cleansing everything. Maybe this was another flood, sent to bring humanity back to the light. Was Rogue the messiah? No, she was only a sacrifice. My body trembled; I couldn't grasp it, what was going on? 

No one cried on the plane ride, Jean held Scott's hand; Kurt pulled himself into the chair, like he was trying to disappear.  The professor and Storm couldn't have understood everything that had happened. Logan…oh god, Logan, he was staring straight ahead, no anger, no vengeance, only eyes cleared of anything but pain. Me? I kept seeing Rogue, she took a bullet for Jean, she died for Jean, she died for the team.                    

It's been an hour; I don't know what's going on downstairs. I'm in our room, the room I used to share with Rogue. It's so cold here, I don't understand anything anymore. Every noise makes me want to scream. My bones are aching, I'm so tired… you know, she used to always be around, writing in a journal, laying sprawled out on the bed, strumming her guitar, listening to the dark music she loved so much. Or just there…

Just there. 

                        - Kitty 


	2. Jean

I never liked her much.  
  
Does that seem cruel?  
  
Maybe, but its too late now.  
  
I'm still trying to understand.  
  
I know the agents burst in,  
  
We fought,  
  
None of them were seriously injured,  
  
I let down my shield,  
  
Rogue knew about the last agent,  
  
She tried to warn me,  
  
Too late.  
  
She took the bullet for me. It hit her right above the stomach, I know because I saw. The bullet tore through her uniform, and into her skin. It stopped before reemerging, she fell to the floor. I couldn't move, don't know why,  
  
Don't know.  
  
Out of everyone in our team, it was Rogue who took the bullet, Rogue who defied all reason. I could have stopped it, if I had been given more warning, why didn't she call out a second earlier? I could have stopped it. Why am I critiquing her? She saved my life.  
  
As much as I don't want to say it,  
  
She saved me.  
  
I don't want to be in her debt. In movies, when someone does that, the person that they saved is supposed to sob and cry, saying, "it should have been me, it should have been me."  
  
I'm glad to be alive.  
  
Does that sound too horrible?  
  
God it's ironic, out of everyone, Rogue saved me. She saved me twice. When my powers went out of control, she risked everything for me. Scott said it was because she believed I would have done the same for her.  
  
Would I have?  
  
Honestly, I don't think so. I sound so spoiled.like a child. But I value my life, I do. There's blood on my uniform, the new one.my thoughts don't make sense, where is everyone?  
  
Logan's cold, sitting on the stoop, staring as a new sun rises.  
  
Kurt's on one of the balconies; I suppose he's thinking.  
  
Storm and the Professor are in the library, discussing things. I wonder what there is to speak of?  
  
Kitty's in her room, I haven't seen her since we got back.  
  
Scott's in the den, watching TV. Not really watching, he's not paying attention, but staring at it like a starving man stares at food. I tried to talk to him, pleaded. I gave him the sympathy act; I wanted him to comfort me. He couldn't, just stayed staring at the television.  
  
She dies in front of me, and no one cares to ask how I feel?  
  
It's been eight hours.there's still blood on my face. I tried to wash it away in the rain, it didn't work. We had to leave her body behind, I wonder if the agents stepped on it? I suppose we'll go back to try and find it later, I don't want to.  
  
I can't go back there,  
  
Cry for someone I disliked,  
  
Pretend that she was "like a sister to me."  
  
But she wasn't.  
  
Even if she cared,  
  
Even if she took my bullet,  
  
Even if she died for me.  
  
Jean  
  
A/N: it was shorter than Kitty's, I know. Jean sounds kind of childlike, which was my intention. I'm not a big fan of Jean as it is, but I didn't bash her, just tried to show her thoughts in an interesting way.  
  
Reviews much appreciated  
  
Next Chapter: Scott ("she's dead. It's gotten easier for me to say, Rogue's dead.") 


	3. Scott

Thud, like a boulder hitting the ground.  
  
That's what it sounded like,  
  
When Rogue hit the floor.  
  
The TV's on, but I can't watch it.  
  
The screen's bright, but I can't see it,  
  
The sound is on, but I can't hear it.  
  
She's dead. It's gotten easier for me to say, Rogue's dead. I don't think I ever thought about having to say it, but I do. Rogue's dead, forever. I'll never see her again. When she smiled she was dazzling, and when she was tragic she was beautiful. Don't take this the wrong way, I had no romantic feelings toward her whatsoever, but she was my friend.  
  
Although, now I wonder, if she was indeed a confidante, then shouldn't I have known her? I don't think I ever knew her. Not in my wildest dreams would she have done that, taken a bullet, died when she had life between her fingers. But that's what Rogue was; she was everything you didn't expect, everything you didn't understand.  
  
I'll miss her.  
  
Someone's talking in the hall, I can hear it.  
  
"Bobby, go back to bed."  
  
Storm's speaking; Bobby's whining, "Storm, I want to know what happened. Where's everyone?"  
  
Ororo's getting exasperated, "Bobby, Scott's in the den, Kitty, Kurt and Jean are upstairs, and Logan's outside."  
  
"What about Rogue?" My chest feels like it's coming undone, pangs in my heart,  
  
I hear a muffled sob, a thud, like when Kitty fell to the floor.why am I comparing everything to what happened? Bobby sounds remorseful, "oh man, Storm, I didn't think, what's wrong?"  
  
I count off the seconds till he'll figure it out.  
  
Three, four, five.  
  
"Oh my god!" his voice has gotten louder, a door upstairs opens, Amara yells, "Be quiet!"  
  
Bobby drops to the floor beside Storm, I can tell from the thud. A whisper echoes around the hallway, "she's dead."  
  
She's dead.  
  
You know, we're supposed to be superheroes. But we're not. The hero would never ever let one of their team die, or leave their body to the enemy. We did. I doubt Trask will have enough respect for the dead to give Rogue a burial... he has little enough respect for the living, and a hate for mutants. I'm sure Rogue's beaten and bloodied body will appear on their website, a warning to everyone who defies him. She will be made to be an example, a Jesus of our age, another symbol of fear. Rogue was always defiant, we must defy like her.we must be selfless, just like her.  
  
A fighter, just like her,  
  
You know, sometimes she despised us. She never pretended to hide it. She hated mutants now and then, hated herself. She thought that her mutation was a punishment.a penance for a past wrong. But it wasn't, it was a roll of the dice,  
  
Dice decided whether she lived or died.  
  
She is an example, a reason to defy reason, a model of something we can never be, we can never be a superhero like her.  
  
Superwoman.  
  
She saved Jean; I'll spend the rest of my life thanking her for that. Did she save her for me? No, there was a split second to make a decision.  
  
Move or Stay  
  
Deal or Play  
  
Laugh or Cry  
  
Live or Die  
  
Did she make the right choice? Who knows, I don't. She did what she believed in, stood up for her values until the end. She did what a superhero was supposed to do,  
  
My superwoman. Scott  
  
Next Chapter: Logan (Don't die, it was all I wanted to say, please don't die. But she did.) 


	4. Logan

Don't die,  
  
It was all I wanted to say,  
  
Please don't die.  
  
But she did.  
  
The entire mansion's dark, the new recruits don't know yet. Chuck will have a meeting in a few hours, I'm sure everyone will put on a brave face, they'll push away their grief and pretend that it was ok, that she died justly, she died for a cause.  
  
But there was no justice in her death. It was only a part of the cycle; we can rack up one more loss against Trask. I don't care about the losing; I care about the fact that they'll lie. They'll say she died instantly, that there was no pain.  
  
Lies. She didn't die right away, I held her there, and she was looking at me, lips moving silently. I know what she was trying to say, she was saying, I'm sorry.  
  
I'm sorry.  
  
For what? For taking the bullet? No. She was sorry it had to end like that, that the last thing she would know was war. She was sorry she wouldn't live to see mutants and humans living together.  
  
And she was sorry, so desperately sorry, that she had let the mask down too late. Now she would have no chance to tell Kurt how much he meant to her, tell Kitty how much she enjoyed her company, or tell Remy that he was more that a swamp rat in her heart. The last thing she said was, "Goodbye, Dad."  
  
Yeah, she called me Dad. When it was just she and I, she called me Dad. She was my daughter, I was her father. We were a family, and now she's gone.  
  
Parents should never have to bury their own children.  
  
But I won't even get to do that. Chuck won't risk any more of his precious X-Men to go and recover Rogue's body, so now Trask can have his way with her. You know, she was still alive when we left the warehouse, and we, her family of sorts, had to retreat.  
  
The last thing she saw was her family leaving her.  
  
Damn them. I could have taken the agents; I could have killed them all if I needed to. But we had to leave her there, lying in her own blood.  
  
There's someone on the lawn, they aren't even trying to hide, just walking up here calmly. I guess I should move from the stoop, go see who it is, but what's the point, the world's not worth saving.  
  
It's Remy. I can tell from the trench coat. He's not doing anything, just sitting down beside me on the stoop. He lights up a cigarette, offers me one, I decline.  
  
He doesn't know that she's dead.  
  
"What's up, mon ami?" His voice startles me; it's been silent for a while.  
  
"She's gone."  
  
Please don't make me say any more than that, don't make me explain. "Who?"  
  
Once again I shake my head, I let my head fall into my hands; don't even care about seeming brave. Rogue's dead, my daughter's dead, I shouldn't have to be strong. "Remy, Rogue's dead."  
  
He stands up, his cigarette falling to the floor; I stub it out with my toe. "You is joking wit' Remy, aren't you Wolfie?"  
  
I can hear the desperation in his voice, how much he wants it to be true, I do too. I would give everything to have Rogue walk out right now and tell us to stop blubbering; we've got work to do. But she won't. Because she's dead. "She's dead, Remy."  
  
He falls to his knees, blinking his eyes a few times. A few shallow breathes from each of us, he stands up, brushes the grass off his knees, and sits beside me on the stoop. His voice is rough, I can smell tears, "how did it happen?"  
  
And so I have to explain.  
  
About ten minutes later and it's finished. I only had to tell the basic story, there aren't words to express the way she breathed, the way her tears fell, our how her eyes looked as they lost focus. Remy can figure that out for himself. Chuck's voice sounds in my head.  
  
~Everyone, to the dining room, we have things to discuss, you will not be attending school or practice sessions today. ~  
  
I stand up, as does Remy, we both walk inside, neither saying a word.  
  
* The Dining Room *  
  
Everyone's sitting down, most of the recruits are smiling and trading handshakes, I'm sure they think it's a holiday. Only Bobby's quiet, he's always been perceptive, I bet he already knows. They don't think anything of the fact that Rogue's not here, she didn't usually attend meetings.  
  
No one mentions the fact that Remy's in attendance, we both take a seat. Jean's eyes are dry, but what would you expect? Scott's hands are clenched; grasping the arms of the chair like letting go would mean death. Kitty's nose and eyes are red; she has her head in her arms. Kurt won't meet anyone's gaze, he stares straight ahead.  
  
The professor doesn't say anything for a while, he folds his hands and looks around the table. When his eyes fall on me I feel myself get angry. Right now I hate him. They are all his puppets, they do whatever he tells them to, if he told them to kill one of their own they would. Remy's also angry, I can feel rage boiling under a calm composure.  
  
"My X-Men, we are fighting a war." He pauses; no one speaks, although the recruits are still smiling about not having to go to school. "And every war, no matter how just, must have casualties."  
  
That stops any jokes, sniggers, everything. Kitty breaks down; her shoulders are shaking with the pressure of the tears. Kurt pats her on the back while she cries herself out. It takes a little while, about five minutes. When her sobs trail off, Chuck begins again. "As you know, last night we went on a mission to track some of Trask's agents, but we were ambushed, and we suffered our first casualty."  
  
I can almost see the recruits trying to figure out who it is, I can't stand this. But it appears that neither can Kurt. He stands up, and begins to speak, "It was Rogue. We lost Rogue."  
  
The recruits gasp, Kitty begins to cry again, even a few tears seep out from under Scott's sunglasses. The professor speaks again, he's still being so sickeningly calm, "Rogue died honorably, she took a bullet for one of our own, she gave up her life for us. She was selfless, and will never be forgotten."  
  
That's true, she'll always be remembered, but only as the first X-Men to die. How will the future generations understand her struggle, her strength? They won't. No one will really know her,  
  
No one will know my daughter.  
  
-Logan  
  
A/N: to be honest, I really don't like this chapter. It doesn't really flow like the others. But oh well, I needed to write, and it came out as this horrible excuse for a story. Sorry you wasted your time reading this.  
  
Next Chapter:??? (It's cold, though I can't really feel it. My skin pulls up in goosebumps, where am I?) 


	5. Waking

Kitty screams, 

I inhale,

Tearing pain,

The lights are bright, why is it so loud?

Everything is muffled, like the world is wrapped in a blanket. That's better, it's quiet now, so quiet I think I can fall asleep. But no, don't let it take me away. 

Dad…

Where are you? 

I'm so sorry, I failed you didn't I? No don't think thoughts like that, don't let it get any worse.

Drops of water on my cheeks, is it raining? No, we're indoors. Are you crying for me? Don't. 

Searing pain wakes me up, I gasp at the brightness before my eyes. It's cold; my skin pulls up in goosebumps. I can't feel anything but the blinding pain. Suddenly I realize that I'm naked, I try to do anything to cover myself, more for my own modesty then anything else, trying to move, desperate to do anything. 

Why can't I move? Suddenly it dawns on me, I'm shackled to something, something cold and smooth, a table maybe? I try to twist free, try to pull my wrists out of their bindings. A voice above me, a voice I recognize though I can't see the speaker, the lights are too bright. 

"Now, now, don't do that, you'll only make the bullet wound worse." The world comes blindingly into focus, my vision heeding his call. 

"Trask!" I curl my fists and strain against the gauntlets, a ripping sound, I scream.

The wound has reopened, torrents of blood washing forth, covering my naked skin.  It's like fire, spreading through my body. A door opens, a rush of air as he walks in, trailing someone behind him. For a moment I think that I'm imagining things, I blink again as the pain fades into a dull and steady pound. 

Trask smiles, and pulls on a chain, attached to the person's neck. It's not a person though; it's a mutant, a girl, older then me. My eyes waver as I stare at her, she's so strange. She's Asian, but her body lacks any color. Everything around her seems to shift into a colorless form, like she has a shield around her. Trask refuses to come close, but yanks on the chain again, I notice that it's wrapped around the girl's neck, there's scarring and blood, although the blood seems to be monochrome, just like her. She sighs and walks forward, white eyes focused on the floor. Trask attaches the chain to a ring on the wall, and walks out. He pauses at the door and says, "remember Void, if you hurt her, then it'll happen again." 

            The girl shakes a bit and nods, continuing her slow pace towards me. Her eyes rise up and lock with my own, and I'm nearly thrown back. Her eyes are cold fire, white flames of pain. She blinks, and I can see again. One more step and she touches the table. 

She presses a button, and a cage drops down from a shaft in the ceiling. A tired sigh escapes her lips; I wonder how I'm staying calm? In the cage is a boy. A huddled mass of clothing, brown hair shooting up in tufts, with cold blue eyes. He nods to the girl, Void, and the cage opens. Crawling out he whispers weakly, "Hey." 

Void walks forward and places one hand on his forehead, the boy screams, and then passes out. Her whole boy is glowing, bright light in this already fluorescent room. 

I shake, and whisper, "Is he dead?" 

She turns and looks at me, like some angel of light. She speaks, her voice has no emotion, "No, he'll wake up in a few hours. But whenever I touch someone, I take away some of their life, he'll only live two more years, and that's if Trask doesn't use him as a donor again." 

I nod, I think I understand, and ask, "Are you going to suck away my life?"

She shakes her head, and answers me, "No, I took life from him, and I'm going to transfer it to you, it will heal the bullet wound." 

"I don't need it, not like that!" 

She stays calm and says, "Yes you do, without it you will die. Your wound should have killed you by now; it completely destroyed your liver and spleen. Trask has plans for you, if I don't save you, then it will happen again."    

I want to ask her what will happen, but don't have chance as she places one hand on my stomach, and closes her eyes. The last thing I hear her say before I pass out is, "I'm sorry."

I wake up in a different room, fully clothed in a white jumpsuit, like a patients uniform. The first thing I notice is that I don't feel any pain; Void's powers must have worked. The next thing I realize is that I'm in a cell, roughly tossed on a bed. I shoot up and run forward, banging my fists on the piece of clear plastic holding me in. Moans answer, screams and cries. 

What the hell is this place? Why am I here? And…. how do I get out?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Well, for all you Neanderthal's out there, that was Rogue's point of view, so she's not dead, yay! I was going to just keep this as several POV's, but decided to bring her back into play. 

Did I make the right choice? Review and tell me!                 


	6. Metamorphosis

Void's fingers are reaching for me again, trying to take my life away. Trask smiles and laughs as I scream and flail about, biting down on my bonds.  
  
"No!" I scream. Slowly my mind finds its way back to calm, and I curl up into a little ball.  
  
How many days has it been? Week's maybe, years? I don't know anymore. I want so badly to wake up from this nightmare, I want to be back at the Mansion, the school, anywhere other than here.  
  
It's a training camp for mutants. Trask captures us, trains us into using our powers at their full extent, and then sells us to governments for testing and weapons use.  
  
I don't really want to think about the training, although I suppose I have to. Do you remember when Trask told Void that "it" would happen again? That was what he was talking about. Void's training is horrible, she told me about it. Trask brings in things, like homeless people, animals, plants, and makes her suck them dry.  
  
If Void disobeys him, she has to take our lives. Us. Mutants. There are maybe a hundred people here, all of them being trained. Trained to kill, to fight, and to do what we're told. Void was captured when she was five, her name then was Arashi. She was here till twenty-five, but she was taken last week.  
  
Taken. It's our fate, all of us here. Void was sold to Hydra Corporation; she'll be used to help them with "disciplining" their own mutant army.  
  
But why am I here? Because Trask thinks that soon I'll be able to use all of the powers of people I've touched, and then I can start missions. I get training every day for two hours, a guard will be here soon to escort me. I bet you're wondering why I haven't used my powers to get out of here. It's simple really, there's no way out. I'm outnumbered, I'd have to absorb at least a hundred people to get out, and that's if I wasn't shot first, just like Nathan.  
  
Nathan was a boy in the cell next to mine, and one day he somehow got out. He only got three steps before a sniper took him out. It happened right in front of me, and as he fell, I caught his eyes, and told him goodbye. And then he hit the floor, I lay down and kept his gaze, my gray-green eyes locked onto his deep brown ones, telling him how sorry I was, sorry that he was dying. We stayed that way until they carried him off, he was still alive.  
  
Sometimes at night I count the scars on my body, and talk to the voices in my head. They don't answer me much; over my time here they've stopped talking. I can't even hear most of them anymore. Now there's only Jean, Scott, Kitty, Kurt, and Remy. Remy's fading fast, I can only hear his whispers now. He likes to joke, keeps my spirits up when the world tries to break me. But I'm losing him, losing all that he was, losing all that was me.  
  
A guard's here, the plastic window lifts up, and he walks in. I used to fight them, kick and scream, but when I did that, all that would happen was I would get shocked, or they would hit me over the skull until I bled. So now I just put my hands out in front of me, where they can see the barcode tattooed onto my palms. They scan it, and then chain me up. I get led past a few cells; I know all of the people in them.  
  
First comes Generous, number 2238, she's ten, and one of the donors. Then Fortune, 34660, seven years old and a prophet. Last comes Green, 6732, my age or maybe a little younger, he can grow plants and things. I'm number 4734. That's what we are, numbers. We don't have an identity, only a number. You know sometimes I can't remember my own name.  
  
The plain white door opens, and I'm shoved inside, still chained. Trask is always there for my training sessions, he tells them what to do.  
  
I'm tied to the wall like a cross, with ropes at my elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles. Then the training begins. It's pretty simple, Trask thinks that if they hurt me enough, abuse me, make me angry, then I will go into a self defense mode in which I will be able to call up psyches at will.  
  
He's smoking a cigar, and stubs it out on my cheek. It hurts, feels like something's burrowing into my skin. I used to love my pale skin; it was my best feature. Now I have no real skin, only a motley assortment of scars. Trask pulls up a chair and sits in front of me; I stare down at him in silence.  
  
"Well Rogue," he says, "I see that physical pain isn't going to work on you, so let's try some psychological stuff."  
  
Please god, you made me a mutant, and a lot of times I've asked you to take me away from this pain, could you do it now, now that I really mean it?  
  
"Rogue, you deserve this, you know that right?" I set my jaw; he won't get any reply out of me.  
  
"Rogue, you're a murderer! Remember Mystique, your mother?"  
  
Please, shut up.  
  
"You pushed her off a cliff! You killed Kurt's mother!"  
  
Don't talk about them; they're my only friends.  
  
"That's why they left you there, and let my agents take you! They hated you for what you did to Mystique, for what you did to Kurt!"  
  
I can't take it...  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"What's that Rogue?"  
  
"Shut up! They had to leave me, it wasn't because they wanted to, they though I was dead!"  
  
"Rogue, you're lying to yourself. They didn't even go and try to find your body, they just forgot about you, and left you here with me."  
  
I'm seeing red, everything looks like blood. I want to kill him, kill him like he killed me. My god, everything's on fire. Pain...so much.  
  
Blood spatters from between my fingertips, a noise like swords coming unsheathed, and I have claws. I have Logan's claws. I did it. At one time I would be happy, but now all it means is that I'll be taken sooner.  
  
Trask is clapping as I struggle. "Good Rogue, we've mastered Logan's, now try Scott."  
  
I don't know why, but I want to. I want to show him that I can. Burning behind my eyes, I think my skull might explode. There, a beam of light, it burns a hole in the floor. He's clapping like a child delighted with a new toy.  
  
Some people come in, they untie me and I slip to the floor, and curl up in a ball. God, let me die. Please don't make me listen to them anymore. Suddenly I know I'm going to throw up, and I do.  
  
Trask smiles as I wipe my mouth and sheathe my claws, the holes in my skin close. Someone comes up behind me, and holds my head down, another puts a drop of something in each eye, and suddenly I stop thinking about resisting, I have to do what's commanded of me, I have to do what I'm told. Trask speaks, "Rogue, your first mission is, Kill the X-men." 


	7. Kurt

A/N: I'm ALIVE! I am deeply sorry I didn't update for so long, but a lot of crap was going on at that time. Anyway, I have two more chapters already written, both of which are pretty good (by my standards anyway)

It's been a year,

A year since she died,

My sister, Rogue.

You know how people say that time heals all wounds? They're stupid lying bastards. There is no way to stop the scar tissue, the things that wake you screaming in the night.

I miss her so much. She was the one I talked to with all of my problems. Rogue was good like that. She never judged anyone, always listened like it was the most important thing in the world, and cared for us more than any of us realized. People thought that Rogue was cold, that she somehow felt less than we did. But that wasn't Rogue. Rogue absorbed all the joy, all the pain, took it all into herself like it would lessen the burden. But who listened to Rogue's problems, who would hand her a tissue when tears dripped down, or give her a hug (through the layers of fabric she wore) when she felt like the whole world was against her? No one did. No one...

"Kurt? Hello?"

"Yes, Kitty?" She's staring at me, her bright blue eyes locked with my own.

"Are you ok? The bell's about to ring, and you've just been spacing out." it seems stupid, being here at this school. We do our homework and go to class, and no one talks about it.

FLASHBACK

It's lunch; we're all sitting together, Kitty, Scott, Jean, and I. We're eating but not saying anything, it's only been two days since she died. Rogue's English teacher walks up, trailing a couple of students. He stops and asks, "Have you guys seen Rogue?"

I choke on my sandwich, Kitty gasps, and Scott looks away. We haven't said her name since the meeting. Jean smiles and points one manicured fingernail toward the door, "well I haven't seen her sir, but you might check outside, she usually eats out there."

We never said that she died, never. The professor told the school some stupid story about Rogue going back to Mississippi. Lies, I'm so tired of the lies.

Jean acts like everything's the same, the new recruits laugh and talk, but for some of us, it will never be the same again.

Logan died that day when we left the warehouse. Since that day he hasn't once smiled, but gotten a lot closer to Kitty and me. Once I heard him yelling at the Professor, screaming about the fact that we left Rogue's body behind.

Kitty and I went back to the warehouse once; both of us just sat on the floor for a while and cried. Kitty lost her innocence, she no longer screams about the mall, or looking great for dates. She spends a lot of time alone, and once I caught her looking through Rogue's journals and crying.

Scott seems to feel guilty, but now whenever we return safely from a mission, he sighs like the world's been lifted off his shoulders. I think he grieved more for his perfect record as team leader than for Rogue.

Remy stayed with us for a while, he kept a couple of Rogue's things, a pair of gloves, a scarf, and a picture. It tore me apart looking as this man, this person who was once my enemy. He loved Rogue with his whole heart, I know it. When he left, he gave me a phone number, told me to call if we ever found anything. Logan and he would have killed all of the agents, and I know they'd do it now if they could.

It's lunch, we all sit down, Scott has his arm slung around Jean's shoulder, and they're smiling like they don't know what day it is. In eight hours, it will be the exact moment that she died.

My mind wanders to the window where there's a huge elm tree. Rogue used to sit there, quietly reading or staring out into space. I try to tear my gaze away but can't, I squeeze Kitty's shoulder. She looks up at me, and we both nod.

I throw my lunch away, as does she, and we walk outside. I settle in front of the tree, she lays a hand on its trunk.

"It's been a year Kitty, do you think they'll do something?"

She looks up from the tree, "what, you mean like a service?"

"Yeah."

She laughs bitterly, "No, they couldn't care less. Did you know the Scott and Jean are going on a date tonight? A date!"

Anger boils underneath my skin, I stand up, "damn them for desecrating her! Damn them for not letting us grieve!"

Kitty sighs and a tear escapes her eye, "I miss her Kurt."

I inhale shakily, "I know."

I hug her, and we both walk away from the school, I don't care if there's three more periods left.

The Mansion

Logan's sitting on the steps, somehow he knows whenever Kitty and I break the rules. He doesn't scold us, just moves to the side to make room. We both sit and stare at the yard in front of us, the sprawling carpet of green. Logan speaks, "were you thinking about it?"

"Yeah." Kitty says, and then bursts out, "Jean and Scott are going on a date tonight, tonight of all nights!"

Logan nods, "what were you expecting half-pint, they didn't know her like we did."

I stand and turn around to go inside, but Logan stops me. "We've got a mission tonight."

Anger blazes up, "A mission tonight! Mein gott, what are they trying to do to us?"

Logan nods, "Yes, but we need you, the Prof's letting Jean and Scott off the hook, don't know why..."

He trails off as a motorcycle comes up the gravel drive, two people on it. All of us stand, Kitty and I staring inquisitively at the two figures. The driver takes of his helmet; it's Remy, no surprise there. Not even an all out war would keep him from being here on the anniversary of Rogue's death.

The next one's a shocker, tanned hands lift off the helmet, and long brown hair spills out. Glacial eyes peer out from underneath them, and the person says, "hello Logan."

Kitty splutters and says, "X 23?"

Next Chapter: Remy ("My eyes [stop] on a small picture. It's Rogue. She's smiling, how I loved her smile")

The next chapter will have some Romyness, because that's my favorite pairing. However, I probably won't use it very much, as to not alienate the people who read this and can't stand romance with their angsty deathfics.


	8. Remy

Once again, sorry for the delay! I can never seem to find the time to get these chapters up, but never fear, I shall!

* * *

Remy

It's near,

I can feel it,

I can see Rogue die.

I shake myself out of my stupor, there's no time for reminiscing, we've got work to do. X23 stand next to me, Logan has an arm around her shoulder. Kitty looks shell-shocked, she manages to say, "So um, X23, how are you doing?"

X's icy eyes focus in on her, she answers, "Just call me X, it's simpler that way... Now, where's the professor?"

We all walk inside, my eyes travel over the walls, stopping on a small picture. It's tiny, about the size of my palm. It's Rogue. She's smiling, how I loved her smile.

A whirr of wheels, the Professor sits in front of us, he extends a hand to X. She stares at it skeptically, before taking it. "Welcome," he says, "you all need to go down to the tactical room."

On our way down Kurt whispers to me, "How are you holding up?"

I fake a smile, "As well as can be expected, Mon ami."

Logan's steely eyes flick towards us, he gruffly says, "What are you two muttering about?"

I give him a toothy grin, "Nothing Wolfie."

He frowns, but not with his eyes, as the doors to the tactical room open. Inside there are a couple of people, Amara, Bobby, Jubilee, I recognize all of them. We walk in, and the Professor speaks, "Now Amara, did you bring the information files?"

"Of course." She walks over to a projector, and a slide appears. It's a blueprint for something, a large square building.

"Alright everyone," Amara has a demanding tone in her voice, "This is a compound for Hydra, it's been put under the codename of 'Red Block'. We'll be infiltrating it tonight."

She's interrupted by Bobby, "But why are we doing it, I know that it's Hydra and all, but don't we need a reason to barge in like we own the place?"

X cuts him off sharply, speaking in a tone that leaves no room for argument. "We're infiltrating it because we have suspicions that they're holding mutants there. Amara, bring up the transfer slides." A click, we see some documents. "These are forms that were in Red Block's computer, as you can see, it's a roster of names. Under the name it lists age and power. So what else could it be but a mutant camp?"

The Professor adds, "These things were rare, but they are becoming widespread. The mutants, if they are indeed mutants, were probably sold to Hydra by an outside corporation. "

Logan snorts and says, "So we're going in to try and find out if there are any mutants there? Alright, but what about security?"

Amara speaks, "Red Block has security cameras here" She brings up another slide and points to several red dots, "But we can bypass them easily. Our real problem is the guards, they make rounds every twenty minutes, and so we'll only have a short time frame to investigate. Bobby, do you have team assignments?"

"Yes, Amara, Jubes, Logan and I are one team, Kurt, Kitty, X, and Remy are the other."

Jubilee speaks quietly, "Professor, do you really think it's possible that she's there?"

Dead silence.

Dead, just like Rogue.

Kitty answers, cold permeating in her voice, "Don't get your hopes up."

But what hopes have we, this evolved species of man? What can I believe in when the whole world's gone mad? Who can I trust, when my only friend is gone? A buzz of wheels, the professor speaks rapidly, "Meet back here at midnight, we'll board the plane, and be at Red Block by twelve-thirty."

We slowly file up, and I pick up my bags from outside the door. Carrying them up to my room, I let them fall to the floor, and lay down on the bed, breathing in her scent. She's still here, but only in spirit. I press my face into the pillow, inhaling cinnamon and rain.

Slowly I sit up, looking at the picture in the desk. It's from two summers ago, right after the fight with Apocalypse.

_Almost everyone had gone to the beach, but Rogue stayed, and so I stayed as well. I wandered the halls for a while, before finding her sitting in the library. She was reading a book, I was to learn later that it was a romance novel, and she didn't notice me slipping into the room. _

_I pulled out a small disposable camera; I always carry one in my pocket, and put it up to my eye. The flash was on, it clicked once, and Rogue looked up. I smiled, "Yes chere?"_

"_Remy, do yah know how much ah hate pictures?" _

_I leaned up against the door, and said, "A belle femme like you shouldn't be afraid of the camera." _

_She stood and closed her book with finality, before snatching the camera out of my hand and walking out the door._

It made me smile to see the picture here, but it was a bitter smile. The door creaks open, and Kurt walks in. I don't speak as he sits down on the chair near the door, blue fingers drumming idly against the wall. "Well Kurt." I say, staring up at the ceiling, "Are you nervous about the mission?"

He laughs harshly, "Hardly. We've done worse than this. I've had a hard time lately though, because every mission is personal for me. Every time I tell myself not to get my hopes up, and yet every time we come back empty handed, I feel disappointed."

I stand up, "You don't really think we'll find her there?"

"No, I don't."

"And why is that?"

"She's dead Remy. If she was alive, she would have found a way to contact us by now."

I smile slightly, "Jubilee doesn't think so."

"Jubilee's wasn't at the warehouse. The Professor hasn't been able to trace Rogue, and it's not from a lack of trying."

"Anyway," I say, trying to steer the conversation clear of the Professor, "Have you ever been in one of these mutant camps before?"

"We've done over ten recovery missions, and failed two. On the others we recovered between one and five mutants from each."

"Are they difficult?"

"Well, from what X tells us, this one has the highest security."

I pull a deck of cards out of my pockets, "Piece of cake."

* * *

Next Chapter: "Red Block" The X-Men infiltrate a Hydra Base, and discover a link to Rogue.


	9. Red Block

A/N: Hello again! This is the next installment of Crimson Bullets (duh!). this is my fun little space, I'm going to say this: HI ERICA!

Now that that's over, read on!

* * *

The mansion grounds were quiet, the only light from the sliver of moon hung suspended in the sky. A light clicked on in one of many rooms, and a form was illuminated against a setting of brilliance. The form slowly searched for something and found it. Slipping it into a bag, the light was turned off.

Remy stood, twirling a small playing card in his fingers. Kitty and Kurt resided in the corner of the hanger, outfitted in their mission gear. Slowly more and more people filed in, until ten figures milled about in the slate-gray dimness. A small conversation started up between Kurt and Remy.

"Why aren't Scott and Jean on this mission?"

The blue-furred teen rolled his eyes, animosity in his voice, "They're out seeing a movie."

"At midnight?"

Kitty snorted slightly, a sound one wouldn't expect to exit from her pink-glossed lips; "They begged the Professor for the night off."

"Speak of the devil."

The professor's tone was clipped and short, "We'll be boarding now. Remember, this is not a recovery mission; it is only serving as a fact-finding expedition. If things go wrong, and the guards are alerted to our presence in Red Block, then we flee. Getting ourselves out is the first priority, remember that.'

"Storm," he gestured to the graceful woman standing behind him, "will be staying with me on the jet. If there is a problem, she will create fog as a cover. However, I would expect Red Block Guards to have heat-seeking rifles, so it won't be much help. Logan," The gruff man nodded harshly in recognition, "will be leading Amara, Jubilee, and Bobby. They will be A team. B team will be comprised of Kurt, Kitty, X and Remy. That is all."

A few people nodded, and as the gangplank to the plane was lowered, Remy looked to the small picture of Rogue he had taken from the room. "Don't worry chere," he murmured, "if you're out there, we'll find you."

Thirty minutes later they arrived at Red Block. Remy was slightly puzzled at it's naming, the building was not square, as had been presumed, but comprised of several small bunkers. Logan, sitting next to him, growled in the back of his throat. Remy questioned, "Nervous, Wolvie?"

The older man sneered, "hardly. You?"

Remy smiled, "Not at all."

The Professor wheeled over to them, and raised his voice enough so that everyone could hear. "It seems that Red Block is made up of five buildings. However, our scanners are picking up something below, a large cavern-like space. Team B will be in charge of getting there. Logan, your team should explore all surface buildings."

He pulled out a copy of the map Amara had displayed earlier. Continuing his monologue he said, "Security cameras are here," he jabbed at the paper, "but the power source that runs them, a generator, is here," another jab, this one in the northernmost building. "That will cut off all power to the above structures. Guards make rounds every twenty minutes, so you have a very small time frame. Does everyone understand?" Eight heads nodded, "good. We'll be dropping you off now."

The plane descended quietly into a thick forest maybe twenty meters from the compound. The gangplank lowered with the hiss of hydraulics, and they trooped off into the night. The Professor handed each of them a radio headset, and wished them all good luck.

"He's not the one who has to go into Hydra's base," muttered Remy, which only earned him a sad look from Kurt, who replied, "He's also not the one who lost someone he loved."

Logan suddenly placed himself next to them and said, "Alright, turn your radios on, we've got work to do." Wheeling about on his heel he barked, "Bobby, Jubilee, and Amara, let's go."

With that, they crept off into the inky blackness of the forest. Kurt and Remy exchanged glances, before a cold voice broke in, "Are we going to go or just stand here like idiots?" That was X, whose claws were already out, her dark blue eyes illuminated by the glow of Kitty's flashlight. No one answered verbally, instead electing to set off into the trees.

They reached the perimeter of the building quickly, Kurt having teleported there to time when the guards would make their next round. Dried leaves rustled underneath booted feet as the other three reached the chain link fence that marked the entrance to the compound. Every few minutes there would be a pop, leading Remy to make the rather painful discovery involving two fingers, that the fence was electrified. Kitty sighed, "Well, I can't phase through."

Kurt continued, "And it would be stupid if I went in alone."

X raised her claws, "Metal skeleton plus electricity equals pain."

Kitty adjusted her headset and said, "Kitty to Logan, have you shut off the generator?"

Static greeted her inquiry, but Logan's voice responded in maybe a minute, "done half-pint, go on through."

Kurt grabbed X and quickly teleported to the other side. Kitty pulled Remy through rapidly, and as she finished Kurt found an entrance into lower levels. Kurt looked at his team and said, "We have eighteen minutes till the guards in the lower levels make another round. The ones up here will be heading to check the generator very soon, so we've got to hurry."

The entrance into the lower levels turned out to be a typical set of stairs; only these were camouflaged and hidden beneath a steel sheet. Kitty phased through easily and unlocked it from the inside. Silently they rushed down these and came to another door. Before they opened it, Logan's voice came over the radio, "A Team to B, we've investigated all top buildings. Most are offices; we took some files that looked promising. One of them was completely empty, just a steel floor and steel walls." Kitty shuddered at this description, and with good reason. Logan continued, "We're heading back to the plane. Team A out."

By this time X, in her impatience, had sliced through the door. It fell, hitting the floor with a harsh clang. Remy, whose eyes had become accustomed to the darkness of the stairwell, was momentarily blinded by the clinical whiteness of the space beyond it. A large room, three levels, all illuminated by huge fluorescent panels. They were on the top level, looking out and over onto this giant white room. Moans and screams greeted his ears, and he shook with revulsion. For on each level were fifty cells, each covered by a clear sheet of plastic. Whispering he said, "so this is what a mutant camp is like?"

Kitty replied instantly, "Yes, but this is the largest."

"Only thirteen minutes left."

Remy jerked forward as if on autopilot, his eyes searching the haggard faces in the cells for any sign of life or hope. Most stared silently, as if completely resigned to the fate they had been given. Several were empty, a few with starved bodies within, and as he continued walking, he felt even more anger welling up inside him. He wanted to blow up all the cells, freeing the occupants, but he couldn't. After all, he thought angrily, this was a _fact-finding _mission. Two more cells on the top row. His radio buzzed, "ten minutes."

There, in the last cell. A form, decidedly female, clad in white pants and shirt. White hair, white skin, and as the form ventured a weary gaze, white eyes, slightly slanted at the corners. So, she was of Asian descent. Suddenly recognition bloomed in her pale orbs, and she, using the bed within the cell for leverage, managed to stand. She lurched forward, so unsteady, and nearly fell, her hands pressed up against the plastic wall for support. It was then that Remy noticed the barcode tattooed onto her palms, with a number below it, 8216.

She blinked slowly at him, as if trying to conjure up the energy to speak. Her pale and chapped lips moved silently, and she slid to the floor. He followed her, staying level. Once again his radio hummed, but it seemed far away.

"Seven minutes."

The woman, still laboring to move, breathed against the glass. The vapor from her breath was weak, but it still condensed on the plastic. Raising one skeletal finger she dragged the tip of the digit through, writing something. Remy watched, mesmerized. Eons passed, and she was finished.

ymer.

What? Remy looked again. It was his name, backwards, but still! She knew him. But how? She looked up, eyes closing slowly.

"No!" He shook his head furiously.

Languidly she began the process again.

"Two minutes"

eugor

"ROGUE!"

"WHAT?!" Logan and Kitty said over the radio at the same time. Pounding feet, and Kurt and Kitty stood beside him. Kitty looked at him with anger blazing in her eyes, "_That_" she gestured to the fallen woman, "it not Rogue."

"No, no!" Remy said frantically, pointing to the writing on the plastic, "It's Rogue's name backwards, and here's mine!"

"OH!" Kitty shouted, "We have to get her out of here!"

Kurt's watch beeped, the guards were coming. "Kurt, get her out!"

The blue teen quickly teleported into the cell, gathered her to him, and teleported back out to the squad.

Kitty cried, "Not HERE, the JET!"

BAMF!

Kurt and the woman were gone.

"Intruders!"

An alarm went off, and they had to race up the stairs back to the jet. Kurt, after dropping off the woman, 'ported back and grabbed X. Kitty and Remy ran quickly across the compound grounds, phased through the still fence, and were picked up by the jet amid a blaze of gunfire.

* * *

Next chapter: Professor Xavier ("I was supposed to be able to help them, teach them, keep them safe...but I couldn't, wouldn't, do that for Rogue. Why?")


	10. Charles Xavier

A:N: Abaiisiia, you're going to be mad at me. This chapter is very short, but the next one I made extra long so it would make it up to you. So please, don't hurt me.

* * *

I am Professor Charles Xavier.

I teach children.

The infirmary is cold, clinical; the harsh glare of the overhead light making it seem ugly. I am stationed here with Remy, Ororo, Logan and Hank. The students are asleep. It is three in the morning. There is an unidentified mutant collapsed on the couch, where Kurt put her. Hank is slowly administering an IV. This is the way I have learned to separate my thoughts, into small little compartments. This is the way I function.

Hank sighs, gorilla-like hands reaching back to massage his tense shoulders. Turning towards the group he says, "I've done all I can do. If she wakes up, it'll be of her own will. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going to sleep."

Logan nods, as does Ororo, and they depart. I am left with Remy, who is staring at me with less than a friendly look on his face. I wheel myself around so that I am facing him. Turning my voice as cold and severe as I can I say, "I hope you know that you will not be allowed on any more missions."

He snorts, shuffling cards in his hands. It is distracting. "Oh no, Monsieur Xavier, I made a mockery of your "fact-finding mission" by saving someone's life." He gestures towards the still form of the albino girl. "You have done ten recovery missions, and you pick up mutants most of the time. So why is this any different?"

"This time," I say, "You put your group in danger. You didn't follow directions. You didn't act like part of the team. You acted so rash; like-" I stop in my tracks, knowing I have gone too far.

His glare turns frigid, "Like Rogue?" He advances towards me, crimson eyes locked securely with my own. "I may not have telepathy, but I sure as hell know you weren't Rogue's teacher, _Professor_." One does not have to search to find the acidic edge on that statement, and I nearly recoil with the force of it.

"I couldn't help Rogue," I say, scrambling to find a solid defense, "Her mutation was unlike anything I had ever seen, I-"

"Don't you dare try to make this her fault, you horrible excuse for a mutant! She gave up her life for your fucking hopeless ideal, and you act like it wasn't the most terrible waste!"

I stare, my hands gripping the handles of my wheelchair. "I couldn't help Rogue," I say, as if repeating will make it true.

"Couldn't,' he says, just as the shuffling of the cards stops, "or wouldn't?"

He spins about on his heel, brown trench coat flapping, before slamming the door. I slump forward, resting my head in my hands. "Oh God," I whimper, "I couldn't help my own student."

"He's right you know."

"Logan!" And it is, standing in the doorframe like it's the most natural thing in the world. He smiles, though it isn't a happy, before striding into the room, and taking a seat on the edge of the unoccupied couch. "Chuck, Remy is right, and you're gonna have to admit it."

I sigh, "I know, I know."

"But why Chuck, why wouldn't you help her?" He rests his elbows on his knees, and I am struck by how much like me he looks. Revulsion rises, but I force it down. I must organize my thinking again.

"I am Professor Charles Xavier.

I teach children."

Logan smirks, his canines emerging from between his lips. This man was once my friend, though if I ever doubted that he had become my enemy, I would have known it now. "You wouldn't help her," he says, his voice so cold I know it must be truth, "because you were afraid. You knew that if she gained control of her powers, she would be so great that your little tricks wouldn't work on her anymore. She wouldn't follow you; she would destroy your ideal team of superheroes. They're children, Chuck! High school students running around like stupid little puppets! Kids, somebody's son or daughter, killing another child! Don't you see how wrong that is? Or are you so fucking deluded that you can't?"

"I teach all children."

"No," he says, burning, "You teach the children who will do exactly what you say. You make them your soldiers. They fight for you. Live for you. Die for you. And that is why you hated Rogue. Because she didn't listen to your self-indulgent prophesies. Because you were too weak to help her think for herself. Because she could tear your little team apart with a wave of her gloved hand. But," he says, a small smile on his face, "I guess she did that anyway, even though she's dead."

My hands begin to shake, and I feel a sob rising, "Oh god, she did didn't she? Kitty hates me, Kurt hates me, Remy...Remy never liked me, and you-" I stop.

"And I would kill you in a minute if it would bring Rogue back."

I press the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to do anything to block out the memories of Rogue that are now flooding my head. Organize your thoughts, I tell myself.

I speak out loud, not caring that Logan is nearby.

"I am Professor Charles Xavier,

I teach children."

Logan snorts, but I ignore it.

"My team is invincible.

I am their leader."

Logan stands up, claws unsheathed, before stalking out the door. I continue unabated.

"They follow me.

They fight for me.

They live for me.

They die for me."

I smile as I say the next part,

"Just. Like. Rogue."

* * *

Next Chapter: "It was a full month and a half after the Red Block mission, when a blizzard prevented everyone from going to school, that the young albino woman awoke." And boy, did she have something to say.


	11. Melting Ice

**A/N:** This is an extra long chapter just for Abaiisiia, whose reviews prompted me to write it. So thank you Abaiisiia, and I hope you enjoy this chapter written in your honor.

* * *

Melting Ice

A squeal of tires, gravel spattering the road, a red haired woman laughing loudly, the man next to her accelerating to feel her hand grip his in fear. Jean Grey giggled, the remnants of her soda splattering the street as she tossed it away in abandon. Her date, Scott, slowed the car as the large mansion came into view. Jean's giddy laughter died down, and the car came to a complete stop in front of the gargantuan building. Scott smiled and said, "Well, I wonder how the mission went?"

Jean snorted and waved a manicured hand toward the door, "Who cares? It's not like anything important happened."

A foreign voice rang out into the summer stillness, "That's where you'd be wrong."

The door to the mansion opened, light spilling out and spangling the darkened yard. And, silhouetted against the light, was Remy, beer bottle in hand. He smiled sarcastically and said, "Welcome back, Lovebirds."

Jean wrinkled her nose in disgust, and Scott peered at the Cajun, his tone accusing as he said, "Are you even old enough to drink?"

The older man laughed a shot back, "I'm too young to drink and you're going too fast in a residential area. So you see, we're even."

Jean got out of the car, slammed the door, and stalked past the amused (and rather drunk) Remy into the mansion, letting out an exasperated sigh while doing so. Scott's shoulders slumped, and Remy hiccupped before saying, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I ruin 'the mood'?"

Scott massaged his temples in answer before grinding out, "Remy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Remy answered with another hiccup before retreating back into the brightly lit house.

The Next Day

Beep, Beep, Beep…

The heart monitor was insistent, mocking, each little beep sounding more satisfyingly infuriating than the last.

"Mien Gott! This is driving me insane!"

A sympathetic sigh and Kitty placed her hand on Kurt's shoulder while using the other to brush an errant strand of brown hair out of her eyes.

"It'll be ok Kurt."

"But she has a link to Rogue! I was sure she was dead, but now…now I don't know what to think! She may be alive, and this mutant is the only way we can find out."

Beast, who was currently adjusting the fluid drip, said, "Kurt, we have to be very careful. From what I can tell, this mutant has a very odd power, not terribly unlike Rogue's. If she were to go renegade on us, she might be hard to subdue."

Kitty dismissed this by saying, "She's in no condition to go renegade."

X and Remy sat at a table in the corner of the infirmary, looking over the files that Logan's team had recovered. It was their hope that the woman that now lay still on the hospital bed had records that could tell them more about her. They had been at it for eight hours, having not slept since returning from Red Block. Even with all of their effort, they had received very little success at identifying the mutant. Remy, who was nursing a bad hangover, had fallen asleep twice, and even the normally stoic X was showing signs of fatigue.

Beast sighed loudly and prompted them with, "Alright, I think it's time for you four to go to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Yes, you are," the gorilla like man insisted, "You haven't slept in over twenty four hours."

"But then who will watch her?" A gesture was made towards the still form of the mutant.

"I'll get the one of the recruits to, or maybe Scott and Jean."

Remy snorted, "Sure, they'll be happy to, considering they got back at about four in the morning last night."

Beast quirked an eyebrow and replied, "Don't make me get Logan to drag you out."

Kitty replied with a "whatever," and went back to her silent vigil over the comatose woman.

"Found it!" X, normally monotone, was almost giddy with excitement, waving a piece of paper back and forth. Slowly she began to read the information on it, her blue eyes sparking in excitement.

"Name: Arashi Tokumaru

Age: 24

Race: Japanese

Hair Color: White

Eye Color: White

Code Name: Void

Power: Skin-to-skin contact with Arashi causes her to unwillingly suck the life force from her victim. Once the life force is absorbed, she can transfer it to other objects, human of otherwise, healing them. However, she is volatile. Skin-to-Skin contact prohibited.

Purpose: Used for disciplining unruly mutants.

Precautions: Must be chained, Must wear full clothing, must bathe separately."

X's voice trailed off, her eyes looking up and meeting the tired faces with which she had much in common. Kitty sighed, looking at the pale lady who had been dubbed Arashi.

"We still don't know how she knows Remy."

"And Rogue isn't in any of the files. Arashi's was the last one."

Remy gritted his teeth and muttered, "Damn."

Days passed, then weeks. The woman, Arashi, laid still, each wheezing breath reverberating in the still and stuffy room. It was enough to drive anyone insane. At first all of the team, and even some of the students had been enthralled with the woman in the coma, but after that wore off only a few would keep their silent and boring vigil. Even X, the most patient of those who stayed, had abandoned her watch, choosing instead to go on nightly escapades with Logan. Logan too had ceased, though he still brought food to those haggard forms that had not. Remy, Kurt, and Kitty had each claimed a corner of the room; one littered with soda and psalms, the other beer and ash from cigarettes, the last with fashion magazines and specialty coffees. The fourth corner was home to Arashi, her slowly eroding form tormenting those who had gone to so much trouble to save her.

"Hey half-pint. I brought you some food."

Red-rimmed blue eyes rose wearily, thin and pale hands reaching languidly for the bag of fast food that Wolverine held. "Thank you Logan."

He handed it over and came to be cross-legged on the floor, one arm loosely around the fatigued young woman. "Listen Kitty…" he began, tension evident in his form.

He was greeted by a heavy sigh and the slurp of a soda. "Logan," Kitty said tiredly, "I know it's possible that she won't wake up. I know that she may have permanent brain damage because of her starvation. I know that Rogue is dead. But I also know that I owe it to her to try and find out everything I can. I owe it to them."

She gestured to the sleeping forms of Kurt and Remy, one with a thin flannel blanket covering his knees; the other sprawled on the thin and cramped couch. Remy had an empty bottle in his hand, a beard forming on his face, and a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips. Kurt was slowly growing thin; the dark circles under his eyes evident even through the blue fur.

Logan sighed so heavily it was as if his entire body went slack, all the muscles releasing like a thousand little ropes, he looked so old. "Kitty," he said tiredly, "Rogue was an amazing woman. I know that better than anyone. God, some days I can barely breathe I miss her so much. But do you think this is what she wants for you? You're going weak, you don't eat, the last time you really slept was three days ago, and then it was only because I made you." He gestured to her small and thin hand, the blue veins scrawling over its surface.

"And what about Kurt?" he continued, and as if on cue the teleporter rolled over with a groan, "He's lost his will to live, his faith in God, his everything. He can barely function and it's all because of Rogue's death."

He snorted and went on to Remy, "She loved him, half-pint, and though I hate to admit it, he loved her back. I never saw Rogue as happy as the few days he was around. And look, just look at him now. He's drunk and smoking three packs a day. At this rate he'll join her sooner than planned.

"The team is falling apart, and she wouldn't want that. She wouldn't want you three sitting in a hospital room like it's worth your time. You're alive Kitty, and you need to do something with it! Rogue is dead, and you can't change it. So please, for her and for me, just live!"

The young woman sighed in answer, slipping herself out from under the older man's arm. "Alright, Logan," she said, "I'm going to finish my food, and then I'm going to sleep. Happy now?"

He smiled sadly in response, "As happy as I've been in the past year."

And still time wore on, like a file slowly wearing away at the very fabric of the team. School resumed and it snowed, the bitter cold sorely grieving the occupants of the mansion. Kurt and Kitty had to go to school, and so only Remy was able to keep his watch over the woman. Sometimes X would come, or the Professor, though whenever that happened Remy would leave. It was a full month and a half after the Red Block mission, when a blizzard prevented everyone from going to school, that the young albino woman awoke.

It was gradual, her slow harkening to consciousness. It put Remy in the mind of an ice statue melting, the way in which she came to be awake. It was only he in the room when it happened, when a flurry of beeping alerted him to the raised pulse of Arashi. He shouted a summons and rushed to her bedside, where Logan, Kurt, Kitty, X, and though he resented their presence, the Professor, Scott and Jean, joined him.

A quiet intake of breath, like leaves whispering on a chilled window, and the frost white eyes slowly opened, hands coming up to touch the face that had felt no human contact in over a month.

A voice like stones dropping into deep water, so smooth and evocative as the woman formed the words, "You…are…the X-Men."

For vocal chords so unused it seemed a momentous occasion, though the crowd in the small infirmary listened intently for more. White eyes looked to the ceiling and found white plaster, a thin chest rising as Arashi continued, "I am Void. I thank you for your rescue."

Kitty, who was furiously brushing at tear-filled eyes, whispered, "Your name is Arashi."

Void's eyes widened, her hands furiously picking at the bedclothes, "Arashi. That was my name once. I have not been called that in nineteen years."

Remy's voice was strained, desperate, as he slowly said, "You were being held by Hydra. When I saw you there, you wrote some things on the plastic, they-"

"You desire to know how I knew your name."

He exhaled, breath exiting in a gentle whoosh, "Yes."

"When…when I was kept prisoner by Trask, as I had been for eighteen years, my purpose was to heal the mutants who were injured during training. Last year, during the summer, I was brought in to heal an individual with a destroyed spleen, liver, and a bullet lodged in the base of their spinal column. That mutant…" she trailed off, voice going hoarse.

Kitty gave a strangled sob and cried out, "Please Arashi, please tell us!"

An intake of breath, and it was released, the words spoken so quietly that only those near the bed heard it.

"That mutant was…Rogue."

Remy blinked, as if he was seeing this woman, really seeing her, for the first time. "Rogue…oh god, she…"

Arashi continued as if he had not spoken, "I healed her, and through some miracle she did not absorb my memories. However, that might have been from the field I am able to create around myself…"

Complete silence as all eyes were trained on her.

"Rogue had green eyes, auburn hair with a white streak, pale skin. She had a cell next to mine. I remember when they gave her a code…"

" A- a code?"

The young woman sighed in response, raising a thin and emaciated hand to them, palm forward, displaying a tattooed barcode with a number underneath, 8216.

"This," she said in response, "Is a barcode. Rogue was given one, and she didn't cry out once, not even when they put in a microchip with it, all in the same day. Even those of us with healing abilities are usually given at least a week to recover. But anyway… you see, any time we are allowed out of our cells, they scan these to show that we have gone. If a prisoner is found roaming where they don't have clearance to go (another bit of information in the scan), then they are shot. The vital information is in the microchip, here." She lifted her hair and placed it to one side, showing a small, discolored spot on her neck.

"The microchip hurts the worst, they slice open the skin and put it in with no painkillers or anesthesia. Most people cry, but Rogue didn't. You know, I'm surprised I remember her name, we were only addressed by aliases or numbers."

"What was Rogue's number?"

"4734, A.K.A. Sponge."

Jean, even with all that was happening, stifled a laugh, "Sp- sponge?!"

Arashi's nervous picking stilled, "Yes. She was being trained to use her powers at full extent, to be able to call up psyches at will. She was nearly there when I was transferred to Red Block, I'm sure she can do it now."

Logan smiled in paternal pride, "That's my girl."

Remy, on his knees at the bedside, choked out, "You're sure Rogue is alive?"

"Yes. Even if she tried to escape, she it too valuable of an asset for Trask to terminate. She is alive, unless…"

Desperation bloomed in Kurt's eyes, "unless what?"

"Unless she killed herself. Rogue was slowly losing her ability to cope; it came from the withdrawal of the psyches."

"What do you mean?"

"During the time I knew her, Rogue's only real comfort was the voices. However, because of training, she was losing them. At the last time I saw her, she only had the ones of those of you in the room, I think."

Scott looked suspicious, he pushed his way to the front and jabbed his finger at the still woman, "But that doesn't explain how you know Remy."

Arashi watched his finger dispassionately, her voice going commanding. "I don't understand how she found your voice to be a comfort Scott, you're quite full of yourself."

Silence.

She continued, "Rogue told me about you, you see. Though I seem to remember she spoke mostly of you, Kurt was it?" The blue-furred teen nodded furiously, tears in his eyes. "And Kitty and Logan."

Kitty fell to the floor, face pressed against Kurt's side, sobbing deeply.

"And you, Remy. She talked of you often." The Cajun smiled, revealing his slightly crooked teeth, and he replied, "She did? And what did she tell you?"

Arashi responded with, "I'd rather not say."

"Oh?" Remy managed a lift of an eyebrow.

Arashi grinned weakly in response, "it's girl talk you know."

Her eyelids began to droop, the conversation draining her of energy. As she slowly drifted to sleep, the throng filed out, and Remy, Kurt, and Kitty slept soundly for the first time in months.

* * *

A/N: So, how was it? I hope it was good, I really do. Not too draggy?

Next Chapter: Agent 4734 ("

I am Agent 4734. I exist to complete my purpose... My life, or lack thereof, is in the hands of the man I call "Sir."

His name is Trask.")


	12. Agent 4734

**A/N: **Here's the next installation of Crimson Bullets, and I'm quite pleased with it. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

I am Agent 4734. I exist to complete my purpose. I am in cell 832, Sector 6, Entry code 8240. My life, or lack thereof, is in the hands of the man I call "Sir."

His name is Trask.

He has trained me to be able totouch and to control the powers of those I absorb. He had taught me to command the people in my head. I am able to shoot optic beams, phase through walls, teleport, and use kinetic energy, among other things. I do not know where I gained these powers, or when. Trask does not tell me.

It is he that gave me the three purposes I am to complete. They are simple. Find the X-Men. Absorb their psyches. Kill them. I do not know who the X-Men are. I do not know why I must kill them. I do not know my name, or my age. I do not know the color of my eyes or hair, because there are no mirrors or reflective surfaces from which to gather this information. I do not know where I was born or who my parents are. I do not know where this building is located. But most importantly, I do not know why I am here.

I dreamed again last night. Trask says that dreams are not real, but merely overactive receptors in the brain. I believe him because I must, and because there is nothing else to do. Trask tells me not to worry, and so I don't. My dream, or whatever you wish to call it, involved only voices. There was no visual quality, only darkness. I told him this, and he insisted that it was not real. This is true because he says it is. I recall my dream.

"_Like, come on Rogue, we're going to be late!" _

A female voice, perky and almost carefree. I am reminded of a ticking pink watch. I do not know why my overactive receptor broadcasts it. I do not know many things. Who is this "Rogue"? Why does this voice call out to her? To where are they going to be late? What is "late"? I no longer remember time.

"_You will go around the east corridor and disable the alarm system." _

Another voice, male and commanding. I do not know why, but when I hear this voice, I think of red sunglasses. Who is this person, and why do they command me? I am commanded by Trask. It is my job to be obedient. It is what I do. I know longer wonder why I think or breathe or eat, but I know that I must. I ponder on the ability to see. It is a useless quality here. Here there is no color, and so sight is not valued. There is nothing that is worth seeing. I no longer remember sight.

"_You can't resist the fuzzy dude!" _

The voice is male, higher than the first, and loud. My heart warms but a little at this voice. I think of blue fur and food. Food no longer exists. We are given intravenous tubes, filled with the vital nutrients. If we are lucky, we might receive some water. I no longer remember taste.

"_I'm going to the mountains Stripes, you wanna' come?"_

A harsh voice, deep and rumbling like the growl of a dog before it springs. I remember the smell of cigarette smoke and beer. I reflect on the tang of mountain air and motorcycle exhaust. Smell is nonexistent. There is nothing to savor here. Everything is sterile, everything is clean. I no longer remember smell.

"_Chere, Remy'll see you soon. Tout l'amour dans le monde1"_

That is the last voice. The last thing from my dream, overactive receptors or not. The voice, thick with a Cajun accent, is dear to me. I seem to recall something when I hear it. The ghost of something, some _feeling _stirs within me. But it is only a spirit, and it is gone so quickly I wonder if it ever existed at all. I no longer remember feeling.

"4734. Get up."

A guard. They look like some perverse cross between a doctor and bird. They wear all white, with large shoulder pads that makes it seem that they have wings ready to burst from beneath their white cotton uniforms. It might be funny, I'm not sure. I no longer remember what "funny" is.

I stand up from my position on the floor of my cell. My hands, calloused and pale, are extended before me. The beeping of the scanner, the small answering beep of the embedded microchip, the quiet, deadly whoosh of the door opening, these are the sounds of the Compound. The sounds of…

The sounds of home.

I walk forward, out of the cell and into the blinding white of the hallway. I have become accustomed to the sights. A woman in the cell next to me screaming out, hands scraping against the plastic shield, her eyes rolled back until only the white part shows. A little boy, crying as the doctor puts in the microchip. A dying girl, still gasping and flailing as the guards bash in her skull. This is all I ever see.

My days are filled with numbers. There are thirty cells in each hallway, and two mutants for each guard. Eighty cinderblocks make up my cell. I have twenty scars on each arm, from what I do not know. To get to Trask's training room I must take two left turns, then three right turns, walk seven steps, and turn ninety degrees.

And here I am. The door slides open, it takes only two seconds.

Numbers, numbers, numbers…

"Agent 4734."

Trask addresses me.

"Yes, Sir."

The click of the guard's heels as he walks away, and I stand, my eyes looking at the ground. There are forty tiles in this room.

"How are you feeling today, Agent 4734?"

"Fine, Sir."

"How is your head?"

"Fine, Sir." Trask is always preoccupied with my head. He thinks it should be loud. I can recall a time when it was. I can recall a time when dozens of voices were in my mind. I can recall wanting so badly for there to be silence within the confines of my skull. And I can recall the overwhelming loneliness that consumed me when my want was realized.

"You will begin your mission tomorrow 4734."

"Yes, Sir."

"Does this bother you?"

"_No, he's, like, lying!" _

**Pink Watches…**

I do not know why it would. These X-Men have nothing to do with me.

"_Believe me. Only we know zee truth!"_

**Food and blue fur…**

I do not know them. They are only a name.

"_Are you really going to betray us again?" _

**Red sunglasses …**

They are only a part of my mission. I must complete my mission.

"_You okay, Stripes?"_

**Beer and cigarettes… **

I will complete my mission.

"_Control the psyches. You are stronger than they are."_

**The hum of a wheelchair and a voice with no emotion…**

I have no feelings for these X-Men.

"_You wanna' come wit' Remy?" _

**Playing cards and Louisiana Gumbo…**

Feelings no longer exist.

"Agent 4734."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Does this mission bother you?"

"No, Sir."

"Good."

* * *

Well…I hope I didn't disappoint. If I did…sorry! And for those who missed it, Agent 4734 is Rogue.

The next chapter isn't written yet, so no preview. I know you're all devastated crickets chirping Damn.

Translations:

1: All the love in the world.


	13. Absorption

**A/N: **A shorter chapter this time, but I hope you enjoy it irregardless.

* * *

Absorption

This was easy.

Incredibly and unbelievably so.

The figure in black quickly and stealthily scaled the trellis of a large brick building. A few little ivy leaves broke from their stems and clung to the spandex of the figure's clothing, but a pale hand brushed them away. The quietest whoosh, like the breath of a baby, sounded as the person vaulted onto a window ledge. A small, muffled click and the window swung silently into the interior of the building. A radio buzzed, "Good. All exterior security systems have been disabled. Take two steps inward and destroy the motion sensor. It is hidden by a painting. Do not destroy the cameras." An answer rang out into the night. "Affirmative. Why should I not disable the camera?"

"We want them to see you. It is a..." silence on the other end of the radio, "it is a calling card of sorts."

"Yes Sir"

The softest of squeaks sounded as the figure's feet met the lush carpet, and a pale hand pressed itself to the floor covering. "So…soft."

A creak of bones and one black-clad leg swept through the air, crashing against a painting with the tiniest of force. A beep and the motion sensor dropped to the floor. "Sensors deactivated."

"Take ten steps and a ninety degree turn to the left. You will be facing the door of two mutants, 'Iceman' and 'Spyke'. Complete your objective."

Another answer, as if the voice had been crafted from steel or ice. "Affirmative."

The directions were followed with amazing precision, and the agent was almost completely inhuman in its completion of the task assigned. Ten steps, equal paces apart, and an exact turn. The door was of a dark wood, with an inlay on the doorknob. The hand grasped it softly, and the quietest of sighs, rather like the cry of a summer wind, exited from the figure's lips at the feeling of the smooth metal.

The door was opened, and three more paces were taken into dormitory. Two beds, each with a sleeping figure enveloped in blankets. The agent's lips curled into a sardonic smile at the calm and undisturbed breathing. A hand, so pale it seemed like a cloud, or perhaps moonbeams made flesh, reached out into the darkness. The offending appendage was pressed softly to two foreheads, two sighs echoed into the stillness, and two voices were lost in the spinning, multi-hued abyss of an empty mind.

And so it went, on and on for an hour. The buzzing of a radio, the answer, and the doing. On and on, as patterned and normal as the moon's wax and wane. On and on, the agent's slow and deliberate destruction of the occupants. On and on, the names sounded out into the night. Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Katherine Pryde, Kurt Wagner, Remy Lebeau, Hank McCoy…On and on, until only one room, one soul, one voice, was not lost in the mind of the figure in black.

This door was largest, a multi-paneled door of blue and silver. The disturbing smile on the agent's face softened at this door, and the hand which stole souls stopped for only a moment to savor the lifeless wood and gilt trim. "The room has two motion sensors and a camera. The motion sensors are in the northwest and southeast corners. This room belongs to Professor Charles Xavier. If he wakes, make quick use of him."

"Yes sir."

The door was pushed open, sliding across the carpet like the whispering touch of a lover's fingers. Darkness greeted trained eyes, and the agent took one catlike step into the room before vaulting onto the decorative trim about six feet off of the ground. It was a small strip of decorative wood, maybe protruding an inch at most, but the figure balanced on one foot like it was the easiest thing in the world. Slowly, it turned cartwheels, foot over foot over hand over hand over foot, until reaching a corner of the room. The person sprung, one arm making a graceful arc in the room and ripping circuitry and wires from the motion detector. Similarly, a leg destroyed the other. Turning a midair flip, the figure landed in a crouching position in the middle of the room, curled into a ball of arms, legs, and black spandex. Rising, the agent approached the large, aristocratic bed. A few inches of satin sheets trailed over the edge of the bed, and the form stopped again to savor its feeling. A whispered sigh escaped, and the Professor woke.

His upper body came to be at a right angle in the bed, staring straight out into the room, but no one was there. "I must have imagined it…" he said quietly, his voice soft and lethargic. He slowly sank back into the mattress, and let out a scream, for standing above him, in all her sinister glory, was Rogue.

"Hello, Professor."

"Rogue? What, how, when…" At last he remembered. Rogue was gone, and had been gone, for over a year. His eyebrows plunged into a frown as he fought the urge to vomit. "What have you done to the students?"

"They have been absorbed. They will wake up in exactly four hours and twenty seven minutes."

"Why are you here?"

"Because Trask has sent me here."

"Rogue, I…"

"Who is Rogue? Why is her name familiar? Why do you care for her so?"

"You…you are Rogue."

The radio at Rogue's waist buzzed, and a gravelly, demonic voice resounded from the tiny speaker, "Not…Any…More."

Then the Professor and his thoughts were yielded up to darkness by the touch of an angel's hand.

Later That Day

"Why has she done this Professor?"

"Are we, like, positively sure it was her?"

"How can we fight Trask if she has all of our powers?"

"How the HELL did she get in, anyway?"

"QUIET!"

The cacophony of voices died in an instant, swept away by the harshness of the Professor's tone. He rubbed his temples in agitation. "One question at a time please!"

The tumult threatened to begin again, but was stilled by Jean's angry voice, ringing out in the metallic desperation of the tactical room. "Professor, are we sure it was Rogue?"

"Yes. Hank, put in the tape please." A screen on the wall flickered to life, and the blankness was replaced by the hallway to the girl's dormitory. "This was at three forty four A.M," the Professor added as the students became entranced by the image. There, in the left corner of the screen, was a flash of black. And suddenly, she appeared.

Her hair had been pulled back tightly into a knot at the base of her neck. It was its normal auburn, though the brownish-red was lost in the black and white tape. However, the white streak had become more pronounced and seemed to have spread. It now extended until just before her ear, fading softly into the russet locks. "The increase in white is probably from stress."

She was clad in a black suit that zipped up the front. A belt wrapped around her hips, and on it was a small radio hanging from one loop. Her shoes were steel-tipped boots, and they laced up at the front.

"How were we able to determine that she was working for Trask? Void said that most of the mutants in the Compound were sold."

"She told me that she was here because Trask had sent her."

It was Kitty who raised her hand now; the young woman looked near tears and was shaking, though it wasn't clear why. "Why is she doing this? Why doesn't she fight back?"

"I can answer." Arashi sat in repose at the table, her snow-white form clad in blue jeans and a sweater. "Trask has developed a serum, derived from several naturally occurring compounds, that suppresses individual thought. Through shutting down specific sectors of the brain he is able to turn anyone into a machine who exists only to do what they are told. Among the things suppressed are memories, emotion, the ability to see color, and the knowledge of right and wrong. At the Compound, we were not fed. Instead, we were given intravenous tubes that contained all of the nutrients needed to sustain life. Rogue is probably unknowingly receiving the serum through the I.V."

"How did she get in?"

"Rogue appears to have extensive knowledge of the security measures of the Mansion. She was able to enter by the one window without steel-reinforced glass and knew the approximate location of all the motion detectors."

"How did she know? Was she using her memories?"

Another answer from Arashi. "No. Rogue's memories were repressed by the serum. It is possible that she may have told Trask the location before the memories were wiped…"

Scott's took on a horrified expression. "She _told_? Why would she tell him anything?"

Arashi's glacial stare turned towards his, and her voice was as cold as the ice she seemed to be sculpted of. "Have you ever been tortured Cyclops?"

He squirmed under her gaze, "No."

"Rogue and I, in fact all of the mutants of the Compound, were tortured daily. Rogue was subjected to both physical and psychological pain. Trask bound her, cut her, shocked her, burned her, attacked her, and pierced her with needles among other things. He left her without sleep for days on end, and didn't give her food or water for weeks at a time. We were all _destroyed _Cyclops. Now you tell me if you wouldn't tell Trask what he wanted, if only to make it end."

His eyes, and in fact the eyes of everyone on the room, were as wide as saucers. Scott trembled, his hands coming up to his face in an effort to shield himself from the frost eyes of Void.

"She didn't tell him," continued Arashi, "She never told him anything. That was why her sessions lasted longer than anyone else's. It was because he couldn't break her, even though he tried. So tell me now Scott, who should be blamed."

He shivered and was silent. Then and only then, did Arashi turn away from him.

Amara timidly raised her hand, and her voice was small and meek. "Why did she attack us?"

No one replied. The stillness persisted, like another question that wanted, needed, to be answered. So many questions and so few reasons. "Why…"

* * *

**A/N: **I just realized how much I vilified Scott in the chapter. However, I do believe his reaction was appropriate. I think it is the universal reaction to the thought of close information being betrayed to your worst enemy. Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed the chapter…

**A note to _Denial_**: I was looking over my emails a couple of days ago, and I reread my email to you in regards to your opinions on the Professor's chapter. While reading, I was struck by how my reply could have been construed as condescending. It truly was not my intention, and I apologize for any harm I caused.


	14. Collision Course

_**A/N:**_ This chapter doesn't have much action, but it is important as a transition. The last part of the chapter contains some important information, just for your info.

* * *

Collision Course _  
_

_I just want you to understand,  
that I know what all the fighting was for.  
and I just want you to understand,  
that I'm not angry anymore.  
I'm not angry anymore._

_-Ani Difranco "Angry Anymore"_

A chill crept over the yard of the Institute, the morning vapor's evanescence to the sky forming trails into the newly bronzed heavens. Upon this yard, four people sat. And while seated against a backdrop of dew-coated trees when the sun began his slow orbit above their heads, a heated conversation began.

"Do we know what the next step is?" It was the blue-furred one who said this, his three-fingered hands folded together like he was praying.

The older man, the one with the very beginning of worry lines on his forehead, answered him simply, "Chuck thinks we're going to have to fight her eventually…"

"But she'll destroy us! She has our powers," exclaimed the young woman in the group, her brown hair straggly and her eyes tired.

And it was Remy, absentmindedly shuffling a deck of cards, who answered, "I'd rather be destroyed than do the destroying."

Silence as the four contemplated this new statement before one replied with a quiet acquiescence, "yeah."

The sun loomed higher, the lower portion still obscured by the thick forest guarding the edge of the property. The circle opened as another form took a place, their every movement coated in sadness and desperation.

The new one, another woman with no color to her but the golden glow of the sun on her white skin, asked of the four, "was anyone awake when Rogue absorbed you? Did anyone…see her?"

"No. The only one who woke up was the Professor."

"We're going to have to fight her, aren't we?"

"Yeah."

"And we might have to kill her, won't we?"

A cigarette flared into existence, giving the impression that is was used to buy time. They needed time it seemed, to contemplate the fact that they might have to end the life of the woman they searched for.

"I don't know if I can do it," said the blue-furred one by the name of Kurt.

The smoker, Logan, exhaled with a spew of acrid fumes. "You'll do it, Kurt. When she attacks you and you see how little of Rogue is left, you'll be able to do it. If we don't kill her, she'll kill us."

"Yeah…On the video, I saw her absorb us, attack us, have no concern for us, but I can't hate her for it, I _can't._"

Void answered this in the same clinical nakedness that she did in every other thing. "Rogue didn't attack us. Rogue exists within her mind in a sentient state. As long as she is under the influence of the serum, it as if she is sleeping. Her emotions, memories, and personality are still there, but frozen. She remembers nothing before the time she was first given the serum. You don't hate Rogue for it, you hate Trask for it, and that is the way it should be."

The woman, Kitty, slowly reclined back onto the grass, her small, svelte form cushioned by the dew-coated grass. Lying back, her rip cage pressed against the sky, each curving bone a dull sword combating the morning air. "I convinced myself a long time ago that Rogue was dead. Somehow, that made things easier. I healed, the scars appeared, and I tried to move on. But she's alive, and that makes everything so complicated…"

"Petite, don't worry. We've just gotta' do what we need to. If we've gotta' kill Rogue, we'll do it. After all, we'll be freeing her from Trask."

Logan contemplated this for a moment before replying, "I bet that's what she would have wanted."

Professor Charles Xavier was troubled.

He could feel the fissure in the team brought about by Rogue's death and revival growing deeper. His X-Men, his crowning achievement, were slowly drifting apart like marbles rolling, rolling, farther and farther away. Remy, Logan, Kurt, and Kitty had been an integral part of the team, each with their strengths and weaknesses. They had taught the recruits and stood by him. They fought for him…

Or at least they had until Rogue had died. Now they hated all that he was, standing stark against him, like crosses illuminated in brief flashes of brilliance.

Thank God for Scott and Jean.

He had, to an effect, raised them. They took his words as gospel, completely without guile or questions. They were his children and his fighters. They would destroy the seeds of anarchy planted by unrest. Everything would be alright.

But the fissure still grew.

How should he fix this problem? The recruits were still raw, unfinished and unready to take the places of those who had dissented. He needed the four who hated him.

Rogue would come again, he was sure.

She would come and destroy them in the name of Dr. Trask.

The Good Doctor had become his worst enemy, surpassing even Apocalypse and Magneto in his destruction. Apocalypse wished to destroy the world, but his X-Men had stood firm and defeated him. It had been Rogue, the dead one and the source of the splitting, that had done so. Against all enemies, the X-Men stood together and were victorious.

That is what made Trask his archenemy.

Trask had done the one thing that no other enemy had. He had destroyed the one thing no one else could, the resolve of the X-Men.

How dare he!

It seemed odd to him now that it had been Rogue who had caused the destruction of the team. Rogue had the capacity for limitless power, though it came at a terrible price. She had been impersonal and separate, never one to do any manner of the outings that the rest of the team partook in. And yet, the team had been destroyed by the loss of this one girl who he had reckoned (falsely, it seemed) disposable.

How would they defeat Rogue? Trask would invariably send his puppet to attack them again, and they would face her. Hand to hand combat would not succeed, and neither would the direct use of powers. Perhaps he should discuss this with Void. After all, the albino girl had, in fact, come from The Compound in which Rogue was being held. Ah yes, that would be the best course of action.

He reached out to the young woman's mind, finding the bitter static of her mental form. She, in the astral plane, existed as a bright, color-filled shape. He supposed it was only because she was without color that she desired to express that which she did not have while in the mental world.

_Void_

Her mental answer was as cold and icy as her corporeal one; _What is it, Sir? _

He noted the lack of Professor. Perhaps Remy's misguided idea that he was not a teacher had poisoned even this one…

_I wish to speak with you in the Library_

There was hesitation on the other end; he supposed that she was discussing this with the others near her on the front lawn (for yes, he could see them from his window).

_I will come with Kitty_

Had she some special kinship with the girl? He would have to pay careful attention to this development, as he did with all friendships with his X-Men. They could not allow their love for friends or significant others override the real purpose for their being, their mutations.

_Good_

He wheeled himself over to the cabinet in which he kept important papers. Using a mental code, he could both lock and unlock it. He freed the latch and opened the burnished wooden doors. A steel box was within, measuring about a foot and a half by a foot. This too he unlocked with precision, revealing the thin manila folder inside. Setting it in his lap, he wheeled back over to the table.

"You wished to see me, Sir?"

Void's snow-white form was stark against the mahogany doors, the purity of her body made incongruous by the worn denim jeans and black sweater. He supposed those clothes had belonged to Rogue. The thought was slightly surprising, given the nearly untouched room that had belonged to the wayward girl. Kitty had moved from the dorm she had shared with the untouchable as soon as possible, leaving Rogue's various pieces of clothing and random objects still in their haphazard condition. Black combat boots remained in an x-formation on the floor where Rogue had put them nearly a year and a half ago, and one of her many mix c.d.'s still resided in the c.d. player…

The room was as untouchable as Rogue had been.

"Sir?"

He was snapped out of his current train of thought by Void's call. Looking up at her he replied, "Yes, Arashi, please take a seat."

Kitty, a pale and slightly emaciated shadow, took one of the chairs at the table beside the albino.

The Professor took the manila folder and slipped the sheets of paper within out onto the table. Spreading them into a fan formation, he picked up one white sheet from the array of documents. It was a blank piece, sterile and forbidding. "Void, you said you shared a room with Rogue at the Compound, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Can you remember what it looked like?"

"The serum repressed most of it. Trask uses the serum as a sort of self-destruction device in case we were ever rescued. It makes it so we cannot remember most of what occurred during our stay. But I was in the Compound before he began using it, so I can remember most of the layout. May I have a pen?"

He handed her one, and she began to draw. Minutes passed and the only noise was the breathing of all three and the brittle scratching of the pen. The young woman finished and pushed her drawing across the table. In thin, spidery script, Arashi had written "Compound Level Two"

Her voice was monotone. "This is the floor on which Rogue and I were kept. There are five levels, each with ten sectors. Thirty to forty cells are in each sector. I was in Sector 6, cell 831. Rogue was to my left, so she must have been in 832…"

She trailed off and looked to Kitty, who gave her a weak smile. "Good, good," said the Professor, looking over the documents. "Do you remember where the Compound was?"

Void's eyes widened with surprise. "Do you really think he'd tell us? We knew nothing…"

"Alright then," The Professor steepled his fingers, his brow creasing with concentration. "This probably won't be a problem, as I expect Rogue will come after us soon enough. Do you have any information to help us formulate a strategy?"

"The serum is the key."

"What do you mean?"

"For Trask to keep Rogue's thoughts repressed, she must be under the constant influence of the serum. Were it to run out, she would remember everything, including her capture and ensuing torture. She would attack him and either escape, die trying, or kill herself. So, if we can keep her occupied long enough for the serum to run out, she will know us and stop fighting."

"But what if, in her moments of insanity, she kills herself?" The Professor's eyebrows dove into a frown of worry as he awaited her answer.

"I am sure that Rogue would rather die at her own hand than be used as a tool against those she loved."

"Alright, how long does the serum last?"

"We were given the serum once every three hours. However, physical activity and increased heart rate causes it to deteriorate, shortening the effects. He will have given her the maximum dose, meaning that we will need to keep her in combat for an hour to two hours at most. But, with her absorption and control of your powers, I do not know if you are capable."

"We will find a way."

Void's frost-white lips formed a thin, cold smile. "I would not be so sure..."

* * *

It is my hope that you enjoyed this chapter, as I worked hard to get it out. It was not an easy task, being that I had very little inspiration with which to work, but oh well.

Oh, and while writing I listened to "You're a God" by Vertical Horizon


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